A Little off the Top
by TheFaye92
Summary: Blackwall needs a haircut and he knows just the lady to give him a hand.


Just a silly little one-shot using a prompt "time for a haircut," if you like what you read, please check out my adventure/romance story _Two-Hundred Roses. _

**A Little off the Top**

It was well known that Blackwall didn't bathe as regularly as his more noble counterparts. It was a point of contention between him and Dorian and the Grand Enchanter, even the Inquisitor herself, his lady-love, couldn't help but tease him. Having spent much of his life out in the wild bathing was a regular priority. But now he was more keen on keeping himself neat, clean, and trim, if only to earn a kiss from Genevieve Trevelyan that didn't result in her scrunching her nose and laughing at him. _You have a lady now, _Dorian had told him only an hour ago after handing him a bar of soap that smelled like elfroot and musk, _and I know I'll appreciate it, but imagine how she'll feel._

So now Blackwall was looking himself in the mirror trimming his beard with careful precision. He set his scissors down and smoothed his hair back. It was about time for a haircut too. Before he would have simply sheered it off with a dagger, but now he had someone who regularly offered to help him.

He found her in the garden tending to a crop of blood lotus and singing a tavern song ever so slightly off key. She smiled when she saw him and wiped her dirty hands on the apron of her old dress.

"Good morning," she smiled.

"M'lady," He took her hand and kissed the top of it despite the dirt under her nails. The brush of his beard against her skin made her giggle. "I was wondering if you would give me a haircut."

Genevieve nodded; "Let me get my hands clean and I'll meet you in the barn,"

Blackwall escorted her back to the keep and then headed for the barn. He set scissors and a comb on his work bench and set a chair down at the center of the room. She showed up a few minutes later with sweet rolls.

"I ran into Belinda on the way here," she said, setting the tray on the workbench. "Want one?"

"Ran into, or stopped by?" Blackwall chuckled, taking a bun from the tray. The bread was warm and full of spice and sweet dried fruit.

"Does it matter?" She smirked and took a bite of sweet bun.

"Not really," he leaned down and kissed her nose.

They finished their snack and Blackwall sat down so that Genevieve could see the top of his head. She ran then comb through his damp hair. Her fingers were gentle as they threaded through his hair and any tangles she met she combed out without pulling his hair. He remembered when he kept his hair short, he was Thom Rainer then. She did not know his secret and no matter how many times he had tried to tell her he chickened out.

There was a words to describe him: coward, selfish, _liar_. But no matter how long he laid awake at night thinking about how much he didn't deserve the Inquisition's trust, or his freedom, and especially not her affection; he could not make himself tell her. _Maker forgive me, I'm in love._ He hadn't earned any of it—no murderer deserved the blessings he'd been graced with.

And just as he thought he might come clean she put her hand on his forehead and he let his head fall back. He found her eyes, blue as the ocean, and all courage left him. She kissed him softly and smoothed his hair back.

"To your shoulders?" she asked.

"Yes," his voice felt strained but she didn't seem to notice. He felt a slight tingle on the back of his neck as she brought the scissors to his hair. A few snips later and she combed out his hair again.

"Almost done," she told him and then snipped a little more to even it out. "There," she brushed his shoulders off and Blackwall stood up.

"Thank you little bird,"

"You're welcome," she turned and set the comb and shears on the workbench. She was backed up perfectly against the bench that he couldn't help but back her against it. He saw the blush bloom across her face when she turned to face him.

"Thank you," he whispered cupping her face and kissing her. She smiled against his lips and leaned into him and he welcomed the warm weight of her on his chest. Gently, he slipped a hand up into her hair and gave it a harmless tug. "Your hair is getting longer too,"

Genevieve smiled. "I thought I'd grow it out,"

He raised an eyebrow; she always kept her hair short. As an apprentice she had set her hair on fire and from there on out she kept it to her shoulders. "Are you sure?"

She knew what he was thinking without him even having to say it. "I was fourteen," she grumbled. "I'd never done an inferno spell before."

"It's up to you, my lady," Blackwall smiled and kissed her again.

-A Few Weeks Later—

It was four against nine: two archers, one mage, one heavy armored berserker, and four swordsmen. The Venatori had dug themselves into the Western Approach and it was time to uproot them. Genevieve stayed back with Sera as Blackwall and Cassandra cut a bloody swath through the enemy ranks.

Blackwall swung his blade against the side of a swordsman, doubling him over. He was trying to make his way to one of the archers. He felt his hair stand on end and heard the crack of lightning before the purple bolts struck the Venatori around him. Blackwall smirked finishing off two of them before the paralyzing effect wore off.

"Beardy!" Sera yelled, Blackwall ducked as the elf shot an arrow at him. It found its mark in the chest of a Venatori swordsman. She giggled wildly and took out one of the archers.

"Blackwall, help Cassandra! And the mage is mine!" Genevieve roared suddenly enfolding herself in magic and fade-stepping into the fray. Blackwall had only a moment to watch her clash with the enemy mage before he was forced to turn to Cassandra's aide.

The Seeker was dueling with an ax wielding giant of a man. She rolled under the giant's ax and stuck at his leg before diving away again. The reaver was so focused on Cassandra he didn't see Blackwall charge him from behind. Blackwall and the Venatori hit the ground. Cassandra saw her opening and stuck the man in the neck, finishing him.

The rest was mop up work. Sera had done a fine job of harrying the remaining swordsmen. Blackwall grabbed the arrow out of a man's shoulder forcing him to reel back in pain before taking the pommel of Blackwall's sword to the temple.

Genevieve and the Venatori spellweaver were still battling. Blackwall threw his shield up when a rogue spell came flying at him. Before he could bring his shield down an explosion rocked the rock, knocking him off his feet.

Blackwall sat up, disoriented. "Inquisitor!" he shouted, smoke filling his lung and burning his eyes.

"I'm alright," Genevieve coughed, and walked out of the smoke.

"Yeah," Sera burst into a fit of laughter. "But I think you're missing something!"

Cassandra was trying to hold back a laugh. Genevieve looked at them, confused. Blackwall sighed and gave her a smoldering shoulder's a pat. Her armor had protected her from most of the damage, but the hair she had been growing out for the first time in years was singed and ruined.

She reached a hand up to her head and felt the dried, burnt ends. A look of horror came across her face and went from dismay to embarrassment in a course of seconds.

"Andraste's holy knickers!" she cried feeling around the rest of her head to make sure she wasn't missing all of it. "No, no, no, no,"

"You burned your hair off!" Sera roared with amusement. Even Cassandra couldn't hold it back any longer and broke into a wild snort of mirth.

"_I didn't_, I blocked that inferno spell, blighted Venatori,"

"You just need a trim, it'll grow back," Blackwall said hoping to give her a kiss and calm her down.

She pulled away from him before he could lean in and dug a finger into his chest. "You will not breathe a word of this to anyone. Ever. Inquisitor's orders." She turned to Sera and Cassandra. "I mean it. _No. One."_


End file.
